


Beautiful Ghosts

by msdowartyheps



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Altered Mental States, Mental Health Issues, Other, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22284673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msdowartyheps/pseuds/msdowartyheps
Summary: And the memories were lost long agoSo I’ll dance with these beautiful ghosts
Comments: 9
Kudos: 10





	Beautiful Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags. Read at your own discretion.

It was warm and light. She felt as if it was sunny, except it wasn’t as hot as it used to feel during summer. It was a unique kind of light - it seemed to glow from inside people. Christine figured it made sense, since Papa was in Heaven now and Erik… Oh, poor, unhappy Erik!

Her heart went out imagining the horrible things the mob must have done to him after she escaped with Raoul. As if he had not endured enough suffering in his life already!

Now, however, it was different. Erik looked as if no pain existed, as if he had been through no hardship at all. Sure, his face was still marred, but that was all. No scars, no anger… No hatred. Just joy, and love, and music.

“My Christine”, he smiled and kissed her right hand.

“Hello, Erik”, she smiled back at him and turned to Gustave, her eyes welling up with tears. “Papa!”

Her father opened his arms and she ran into his hug. It was as warm and soft as she remembered.

“Min älskling!”

“I have missed you, Papa.”

“I have missed you, too.”

“Do I… Do I get to stay here with you?”, she looked at the two men who had been so important in her life.

“Yes, my child, you do”, Gustave answered. “There will be music and dance and you will never, ever be alone again.”

“No more pain”, Erik said.

“No more pain”, she repeated with a smile. “I like that.”

* * *

“I am sorry, Monsieur le Vicomte”, the doctor said with genuine sorrow. “There is nothing else we can do. It appears Mlle. Daaé is… No longer among us.”

“What do you mean? Will she no longer remember who I am?”

“Monsieur, I believe Mlle. will not even _see_ you. Nor anyone around her, for that matter.”

Raoul sighed.

After their escape from the Opera House cellars, Christine frequently had terrifying nightmares - or so he presumed. She would wake up in the middle of the night screaming at the top of her voice, and sometimes she screamed even in her sleep too, but refused to talk about whatever it was that provoked such terror. Having his own demons to battle, Raoul knew how painful it could be, and therefore did not insist.

Until the day she stopped responding to him.

“Why is that?”

“The reasons are unknown, Monsieur le Vicomte. I am sure you are aware women are prone to bouts of hysteria.” Raoul nodded. “Sometimes, it progresses to catatonia… And is irreversible.”

“Is there anything we can do to facilitate her situation? Should I hire a special maid? I have money…”

“There is a house just outside of Paris, created especially for people in a similar… Condition. There are doctors, nurses and maids who will see to her needs and make sure she stays safe and comfortable until the end.”

“Very well. Do what you must, then.”

Days later, a team of doctors left the de Chagny manor with Christine, who was oblivious to the world around her.

Just before she boarded the carriage that would take her to the asylum, Raoul came in her direction. Even though he knew it wasn’t likely that she could actually see him, her peaceful smile made his heart swell.

He kissed her forehead and a lone tear descended his left cheek.

“Farewell, Little Lotte.”

The carriage driver extended his hand to help Christine board.

“Are you ready, Mlle. Daaé?”

* * *

“Are you ready, Christine?”

She took Gustave’s hand with the hugest smile she could manage.

“Yes, Papa.”

Seemingly out of nowhere, a familiar Swedish folk tune started playing, and father and daughter twirled and jumped around as if there was no tomorrow. A tall man with remarkable amber eyes watched them and clapped along with the song.

No more pain.


End file.
